


.... Marching to the tune of a different drummer

by Anonymous



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Charr (Guild Wars), Gen, Meta, Music, Rebellion, Worldbuilding, Worldbuilding Exchange 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-25
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 08:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30119970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Notes from the archives of the Duramand Priory, M section.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1
Collections: Worldbuilding Exchange 2021





	.... Marching to the tune of a different drummer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HopefulNebula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefulNebula/gifts).



_Notes from the archives of the Duramand Priory, M section._

_Caution: some objects have been treated to call forth memories from their past as sensory experiences. Handle with care._

  
oooo

  
The long grass curled up around xer as she crouched, she had set aside her bow on the rock to xer right, also covered by a bit of the same grass. The sun shone warm in strips on xer fur where the grass did not cover xer. Xer eyes peered out at the bovine shape among the leaf dappled shade that xe had been tracking since the sun had been a half circle on the horizon. Stretching forward xe sprang out, black pawpads making puffs of pale dust. Pat, pat, silence, pat. Xer muscles were still getting used to the full four pawed run, but there was something very pleasant about it. The same four feet that had let her "wander away" from her unit three months before.

  
....

  
Pat, pat, silence, pat. There, a very diferent rythym from the marching songs. Xer feet moved in a circle around the small low fire.

  
A few more notes picked out on the harp, the quick sequences of sweet notes floated out over the orange leaved trees. a few more adjustments and they began to be a mirror of the footsteps earlier, heaviest where that rhythym was silent, a mirror in time as well as space. A quick rise in the elonian fifth xe had picked up once on campaign, a fall, and then a four note rise again, each claw plucking a single string.

  
The wood was beginning to splinter and flake off with the pieces of blue paint in places. Xe cast an appraising eye over at the nearby ivory colored pile, taking in the measurements of the smooth curve of ribs. Xe looked down at the measurement and span of xer paws and claws, and the size of the human harp. A nearby antler gleamed in the butter gold of the firelight - yes that might do much better. 

_An extra large harp, the ivory buffed mirror smooth. The ivory joins with a wooden base, supporting 7 strings of alloy, though the original set were obviously pre-revolution, and more importantly pre the the tecnological increases that followed, and probably made of soft braided sinew. This would have given a very different tone. Nearby, a cedar wood guitar, solid bodied and wired for amberitic current. A newer model. Found in the same cache._

  
_The harp's ivory was smoothed and carved with swirls and in one area a nice imitation of a crocheted net. Within this may be a figure of a cow and several birds._

  
oooo

  
In the hazy light a figure in the stern of the ship pulled his limb from the cool water and stretched. He picked his way back to the front of the ship pouring over the map of their route. The encrusted growths of Malchior's shore, not too long ago had arched up over the ship, green and pink and strangely opalescent. The wound in his arm still pulsed faintly with crackling cold whenever he leaned his weight on it too much while pulling the oar. He hissed. Now as he reached his oar again, they had begun to pull away to a farther distance from Malchior's blasted shore and the horned semi - corals had been joined by a second set like an illusionist's clone, a faint mirror image on the currently calm sea, pretty in it's own odd way.

"And mayhap the storm's wrack will send you down  
into old zhaitan's recruiting ground  
but the good moon's above and there's pearls below  
so row row you old dogs row!

And when we come to divinity's reach  
i'll ride in silks like cherries red  
and all the lads there say of me  
there's a divinity that's shaped those ends!

And mayhap the storm's wrack will send you down  
into old zhaitan's recruiting ground  
but the good moon's above and there's pearls below  
so row row you old dogs row!"

As he sat down at his post, his own rough tenor growl rose above the mix of human and charr voices,

"So damn their gold, and damn their dust  
'cause go into orr's palace we must  
but soon we'll go down into the town  
and paint the iron citadel red as rust!"

A few scattered cheers and whistles against the lapping of waves and creaking of wood.

"And mayhap the storm's wrack will send you down  
into old zhaitan's recruiting ground  
but the good moon's above and there's pearls below  
so row row you old dogs row!"

They would eventually sail their cargo up the long river to where the trees changed to shining needled pines, to offer first pick their cargo to the Duramand Priory. The artifacts that would prove so useful in research against Zhaitan often had their roots in voyages such as this. But after that they would make a detour towards Lion's Arch and a secluded cove to let a certain other order appraise the cargo and see if there was anything they liked. The fresh apples there would be a pleasant plus. It certainly wouldn't be the most direct route but after that they could perhaps very well paint the Black Citadel red with their enjoyment.

_A piece of Orrian coral and several sheaves of papers._

oooo

_The young initiate walked down the hall to the next room, setting a lamp down on the table, and his claws scraping against the table as he unlocked the little cubby and spread the several layers of rustling papers out on the table._  
  
_"In this time period, there were several songs that referred to the "south gate" or "the yellow door" (note: the south gate was painted in yellow at the time) or to the south in general. there were also several references to "looking to one single head". In the early days, many things happened at once, but several groups of charr "spontaneously" gathered near the south of the city by the statue of Lyssa's head, silently assaulting the south gate as one shortly after. This new/old information contrasts interestingly with an anonymous letter passed around that referred to "chastise well Harus Lightfingers, and look ye well to a single head" passed around by the supposed "Robin Southpaw", a caution against looting and an injunction to "chastise" looters well perhaps? the final onslaught was particularly well organized.... not enough to stop someone making off with dwayna's legs and feet, but that's perhaps understandable, and in the end fortunate for us in the Priory._

  
_( ~~see room 25 drawer 4 for both feet.~~ ~~right foot borrowed, will return later, hehehehehehehehe - the current voice of the skritt~~. Actually forget what I said above, damned pesky skritt. - signed Braxx of the college of synergetics.) "_

_The initiate swept the papers aside, noting which ones to come back to. They shifted their shoulders, the new starched robe still feeling strange as it shifted against their fur. As long as they were up, perhaps they would go up the stairs and drink their chocolate and cinnamon looking out over Lornar's Bridge. The "sweetness" their human companions talked of was a bit lost on them, but the flavors were bright and interesting. And the steam rising up from it would look sweet against the emerald pines of Lornar's Pass._


End file.
